eleven next to you At midnight the clouds were dark, sinister and looming as they ghosted over the streets of Shinbi. A storm was coming, whispered the cracks of thunder that came — soft ones, its rumbling a muffled blur from where it echoed in the distance. Howls of wind breezed by, then poured the rain; showers, battering and cold from the way glass panes were fogged by webs of fantasm-grey mist streaked with cascading dewdrops, but the air around was barely beyond a slight chill, not nearly enough to prick one out of sleep. In between the grey walls that made up the little space of the Jeon residence, Jungkook was wide awake, hidden quietly in the confinements of the sheets that made out his bed. The moonlight was bright as it always was, peeping in through the gaps of the curtains and bathing the shadows in a faint glow; he seemed to have lost count how long he'd been staring at the diamonds that sparkled against his windows. Dammit Park Jimin, he thought, just where the hell are you? It was eons later when Jungkook shifted at last, the grey linen rustling noisily under him as he moved gingerly to lay on his back. With a sigh, he reached under his pillow, retrieving his phone he'd stashed away at some point of the night. He slid his thumb over the home button to unlock the screen — the hour was five minutes past midnight, and there wasn't a single notification for him on the page. So Jimin still hadn’t called him back yet. 10.39pm
hey
jimin....?
r u awake 10.50pm
sorry i just
happened and i need to talk to you
pls pick up 11.12pm
are u srsly sleeping before midnight or r u hangin with that dude from the hockey team 11.43pm
please
call me back :( Jungkook paused at the last yellow message bubble he’d read, fingers hovering hesitantly around the kakao chatroom he’d opened. He scrolled through the string of texts he’d sent, lips close to being bitten raw from how hard he'd been chewing on them, nervous, for some reason. After much difficulty, he began to type. 12.08am
hey so
i think ure probably sleeping so...
nvm, i'll just talk to u tmr Another halt; the next word probably took sixteen backspaces for him to get out. 12.16am
sorry And releasing the device back into the mess of blankets around him with a grimace, Jungkook fell back into his pillow once more, stilling over his bed as a weight of something began to settle in his chest; disappointment? Dejection, maybe. He couldn’t quite put a label to it. All he knew was, it certainly was suffocating, for someone to feel this jittery. At the wave of exhaustion that suddenly consumed him, Jungkook shut his eyes defeatedly, beaten and numbed by anxiety. It had been a while since he’d been up in his room, tucked away and unmoving as he was. He’d probably stayed that way since the moment he retreated inside following the chaos that had ensued just a couple of hours before — the crisis of the century, as he’d called it (if he could possibly live that many years). So the talk he’d had with his mother hadn’t lasted long. To be exact, it had barely taken five minutes, and Jungkook returned as soon as it was over, just like he’d promised Taehyung. Though, even without that promise, he probably wouldn’t have stayed any longer either. Why would he, when those minutes were close to the worst of his entire life? It had been hours ago, but opposed to the reality of it, everything was still fresh in Jungkook’s mind. He was still fresh, that man — the image of him standing there in the living room, flashing before Jungkook’s eyes as if he were physically there in right front of him now — like the lingering remnants of a haunting nightmare he couldn’t shove away. Nightmares. Jungkook hadn’t had one in a long time, not since he was fourteen, but in that fraction of a second it was all coming back to him — the crying, the yelling, the slamming doors — years of pain, now a giant, living nightmare; a nightmare that was his entire childhood, one he could never shelve away. Jungkook couldn’t remember when it all started. He’d been seven then, and there had been way too many to keep track of — but one had always stood out. The dream occurred more frequently than others, smothered the boy like he was drowning underwater, so suffocating that Jungkook could never wake himself from no matter how hard he screamed. It was the day his father walked out on him and his mother, for good. As a child, Jungkook had been naive, and fairly innocent. All he ever wanted was to be loved, to be acknowledged and appreciated, and he very much craved the attention his father rarely ever gave him. It hadn’t always been like that; the Jeons were a closely-knitted family when they first started out, fun and affectionate as can be. Jungkook still remembered — the picnics at the park, the trips to the beach, roadtrips to towns over weekends — but he also remembered, the first time his dad bailed on him on his birthday over work. He remembered the first time his dad said he was annoying, when all he wanted to do was show him an art project he’d been complimented on, and the first time he caught the man throwing away the card he’d made for father’s day. He also remembered, the first time the man laid a hand on him. There were the nights he’d come home drunk, the nights he would yell at the little Jeon for no reason, flipping chairs and slamming doors; he would be so full of anger, then disappear right again at the crack of dawn. Jungkook probably shouldn’t have been surprised back at that point, when his dad decided to walk out the door and never come back. But he had been too young. Too blinded by his desire to reclaim the love of his father, too absorbed into thinking he was the one not doing enough to earn that love, and too upset with himself that he hadn't been a good enough reason for his dad to stay. Who could blame him? The man didn’t even stay when his own son had fallen down a whole flight of stairs and broke his shoulder right before his eyes that same night, something he’d been the cause of. There was that, but most of all, was a promise he’d made. I’ll come back for you, son. Promises. A contradiction in the very bane of its existence — easy to make, but hard to keep — and Jungkook learnt the hard way that they were undeniably made to be broken; that people were all made to lie; that promises weren’t worth sacrificing a piece of your heart to. He could never forget that, and just like how the pain of rejection could never fully go away, so did the tears that came along with it; the boy hadn’t realised he’d been crying until he felt a sob choking its way up his throat. You’re so ing pathetic, said a voice up in his head. Struggling to force back the waterworks that were threatening to spill, Jungkook buried his face deep into his pillow, and lifted a hand to wipe his eyes dry. Damn, he should really be getting some sleep right now. It was a school night, not to mention he had soccer practice tomorrow, and no doubt that he had to stop this — the overthinking — as hard as it sounded. Things were going too far; hidden memories surfacing and old wounds reopening, it was like his mind was teetering on the edge of a dark, dangerous territory, the side of him that he’d fought long and hard to keep locked away in the deepest depths of his soul. He’d long sworn all those years ago; he was never going to end up that way ever again. Finally finding it in himself to break away from his toxic thoughts, Jungkook stirred to lay on his side, blanket pulled all the way up to his chin. His gaze was back to the window; it was still raining, the storm heavier than ever and thunder coming closer, and the brunette made to channel his focus into his senses — specifically his werewolf ones, to tune out his hypersensitive hearing. His eyes closed at some point later, succumbing at last to the tiredness that soon began to consume him, but just as he was about to give in, there it was— a movement beside him, the slightest of a stir to his right. Jungkook stiffened. What...? For a fleeting moment, Jungkook hesitated, frozen in his spot as he listened to the rustling of sheets and felt the mattress dip beside him. It was only when he noticed the curve of a shape, buried under the blanket beside him, that the realisation dawned on him: so, he hadn’t been alone in his bed that night after all. “J-Jungkook?” At the soft, slurry call of his name that had come from behind him, Jungkook sat up almost automatically, finding himself face to face with the boy that had been sleeping beside him. The onyx-haired male was perched up on one elbow, hand rubbing lazily at his eye, expression scrunched with a slight squint. Despite the bloatedness of his features, cheeks and lips puffy from sleep, Jungkook thought he was still beautiful. Taehyung, had always been beautiful. “H-Hey,” said the dazed boy, his voice deep yet gentle as the words left him. Seemingly still half-asleep, he blinked momentarily, before taking in the shadow that was the brunette. “You- You’re still- awake?” As if he hadn’t just been crying a mere few minutes ago, a smile came to form on Jungkook’s face; there was something about the way Taehyung looked — adorable in his mussed up state — that he couldn’t help it. He wondered how it was possible, for him to let go that easily. “Hey,” Jungkook said, now fully facing the other. “Yeah I uh, guess I am.” Taehyung paused as if he were having trouble registering the words, frowning, and dropped his arm back down to his side. “What time is it...? And why-” He stopped to stifle a yawn, “-aren’t you sleeping?” Jungkook, simply shrugging, watched as Taehyung nestled back into his side of the bed with limbs curling into a ball, the blanket wrapped around him. The black t-shirt Taehyung wore looked too big on his skinny frame, and the other could see him shivering under the thin cotton. Jungkook soon followed suit, settling down as well on his side. “I was just, thinking about some stuff,” he said, absentmindedly pulling the covers higher over Taehyung. His face was turned towards him, gaze indulgent and tender. “And you? What made you get up at this hour?” Just as the words left him, a thought occurred to Jungkook. The smile he wore slipped away almost instantly; had Taehyung heard him crying? It couldn’t be, could it? “I’m sorry, did I uh, wake you or something?” To his relief, the latter shook his head. “You? Uh no, I don’t think so,” said Taehyung, words a partial jumble. “I mean, I can’t remember but, I’m pretty sure it was the...thunder.” “The thunder?” Jungkook echoed, brows raised slightly. “Y-Yeah.” Taehyung sounded embarrassed. “It’s just- so loud.” “Oh. Are you… afraid of storms or something?” At times like this, it was painfully hard for Jungkook not to fawn over the omega; the timid side of him had always made the brunette cave, so easily breaking down the cool persona he always prided himself of. (And not to mention, it was near impossible for him to remember how Taehyung was practically a year older than him.) Well , just what was it about this boy? “N-Not really.” Taehyung halted, searching for words. His cheeks were dusted with pink, eyes wandering away coyly. “I mean, I’m used to hearing them but, I never liked how loud they are. Especially the thunder, and since we have super hearing, I just… don’t like it.” Jungkook, fighting back a grin, chuckled silently to himself. Indeed, absolutely adorable. “You know,” he started, “I can teach you how to tune it out.” To this, Taehyung was quick to perk up, and blinked at him. “Really? You can do that?” “Of course,” said Jungkook. “I mean, I’m definitely not as good a teacher as Namjoon hyung — he’s the one that taught me all this cool stuff we can do — but I think I’m decent enough.” “No way, you’re an awesome teacher,” Taehyung insisted, and Jungkook couldn’t resist a smile this time. “Uh, thanks, I guess?” Getting up to reach for something on the makeshift shelf that was his bed’s headboard, Jungkook rummaged around his mess of belongings. He returned with a pair of earpods, along with his phone, and Taehyung stared at the items presented to him. “Oh, what are we gonna do with those?” “Well, the first step to this is pretty simple,” Jungkook explained. He connected the audio jack to his phone as he spoke, before reaching out to insert the pods into each of Taehyung’s ears. “If you’re around loud noises you don’t like, you can try drowning it out with something else. For me, listening to music helps. It’s not a guaranteed thing, but for most people it does.” Opening his iTunes app, he tapped onto his ‘Acoustics’ playlist. “Is there any sort of music that you like, or heard before?” “Not that I know of,” Taehyung pondered. “I only heard the ones that Hoseok hyung plays on those big speakers of his, the really noisy ones that sound like lots of things breaking. I don’t like those.” Jungkook cracked up. “Okay, note taken.” After scrolling for some time, a song was chosen. Taehyung was holding his breath for some reason, then it began to play — beats, soft ones that of a piano, its gentle notes soon accompanied by the faintest hum of a violin as the seconds passed, reminding Taehyung very much of the clear, peaceful night sky that shimmered with a million twinkling stars. The storm raging around them was a faint blur now, nearly inaudible as he focused on the melodies flowing into his ears. “Oh, I like this one,” said Taehyung. “What’s it called?” “Always, by Peter B. Holland,” Jungkook replied. “Good, right? It’s my favorite too.” “Mmm, always…” repeated Taehyung, just as his eyes started to flutter, as if he were fighting to stay awake. Jungkook slipped his phone into the space under their pillows and placed a finger over Taehyung’s lids. He the skin lightly, urging them to close. “Go to sleep,” he whispered, and adjusting himself to make room as Taehyung instinctively leaned into his touch, the brunette gathered the duvet once more, making sure every bit of the other was well covered. He lifted a hand to run his fingers through Taehyung’s hair, who snuggled even closer until his forehead was brushing against the curve of Jungkook’s shoulder. Just like always. “...Okay. You too.” There was silence, and then, “...Okay.” Okay. As the word left his mouth, Jungkook wondered, was he really, truly okay? Yeah, he was. Everything was okay, and he believed it… for now. Right here, Jungkook was calm. Right now, Jungkook was at peace, wrapped up in the sanctuary that was Taehyung’s warmth and steady breaths, a sanctuary amidst the night’s darkest hour, but he also knew that it was going to be temporary. Temporary, like everything else in this world. Because nothing lasts forever, and especially, the good parts of life. The universe indeed was an odd place to be; everything was always just ephemeral.   ~   Where the icy breezes of April had come to pass, so did the days of Spring as the weeks stretched on into May. The coldness was fading, yet it didn’t really go away; still, it was nice that scarves and jackets weren’t needed anymore. The sun that Saturday afternoon was a shade of honeycomb, a golden globe in the sky between the clouds. In the deepest corner of the Shinbi woods, shafts of light poured through the canopies, bathing meadows and flora with its tepid glow. What a perfect day, Seokjin would say, to be out basking by the lake with a cup of fresh juice; but as it seemed, basking was most definitely not on his agenda — or anyone’s — at the moment, and neither was the juice; though, he really needed that juice. And maybe, so did Hoseok; combat days had never been part of his top favorite trainings list anyway. “Wow, are you seriously this tired already, Jung Hoseok?” Namjoon was standing by the side of the meadow where the lilies were, arms held up in fists, smirk playing on his sweaty face. Barely four paces away from him was Hoseok, just as drenched in perspiration, panting heavily as he glared at the alpha. “Who said I was?” The auburn haired snapped, swiping away his bangs from his eyes. “It’s just—“ He paused to catch a breath, “— been long since we trained.” “Right, remind me to never leave you s alone for a whole week. Seriously, that’s all it took to turn you into a bunch of lazy fatasses?” “Hey, we didn’t— Wait, what did you call me now?” “Do you really need me to repeat that?” “Okay Kim Namjoon you’re so ing going down.” With a vicious growl Hoseok launched himself off onto Namjoon, claws sharp and swift as he aimed swipe after swipe at him, but within seconds he was flipped over by the stronger male like he weighed nothing. Before he could realise it, his wrists were pinned down above his head. “Aw yeah, now this is what I’m talkin’ about,” said Namjoon, and exchanging another set of torments, the two were a mess of dirt and growls as they rolled on and on in the meadow, fighting for victory of dominance. Somewhere along the periphery, Taehyung, Seokjin and Jimin sat side by side over a log bench, watching as the scene unfolded. “Are you really sure they don’t hate each other…?” asked Taehyung, slightly wincing when Hoseok delivered a punch right into Namjoon’s gut. Damn, now that looked like it hurt. “Oh I’m sure,” Jimin chuckled, clearly amused. “We do this at all the time, believe it or not.” “Joon loves to irritate people when we battle during trainings,” Seokjin added. He looked pretty bored despite how it was his turn next. “You know how they say anger makes us stronger? It’s sorta like his way of pushing us to our limits. Can’t say it doesn’t work though, and we all know he doesn’t mean any harm. He just wants us to be able to protect ourselves.” “Doesn’t anyone ever get... hurt?” “Nah, he knows when to stop,” said Jimin. “Hurts like a sometimes yeah, but he never goes too far.” “...Right,” Taehyung said, his lips nervously. Ouch. Hoseok had just been thrown into a tree. “And what about Namjoon hyung? Does he get hurt?” “Well, let’s just say if any one of us could even lay a scratch on his face, he’d already be a winner.” “Yeah,” agreed Seokjin. “Besides, no one can beat him. He’s an alpha, one of the strongest wolves to exist. If someone’s actually strong enough to beat him, then that means this pack has a new leader.” Hoseok and Namjoon were back on the ground when the three had their attention on them again, Hoseok on top this time, struggling to wrench his fists free from the other. “Alright I’ve had it. I’m gonna get myself some juice,” Seokjin declared, standing up. “Do you want anything from the kitchen?” Shaking their heads in unison, the boys declined and off Seokjin went, leaving them alone with each other on the bench. With the conversation dying then as neither of them spoke on, mutually deciding to focus on the battle for a while, it was at that point that they felt it — the emptiness, the kind one would get when something was missing somewhere — and among the two of them, someone was certainly missing. This, Taehyung felt in the gaping hole of his heart that grew larger every day. “Hey, Jimin…?” muttered the younger of the two, voice suddenly small and tight. Recognising the dip in his tone, Jimin turned immediately, expression wary. “Yes, Tae?” he said. Taehyung, seeming pretty down, didn’t continue for some time. He chewed on his bottom lip, staring at the ground as if he were troubled by his own thoughts. Jimin on the other hand, had already guessed what he was about to say; he could see it in Taehyung’s eyes. Jeon Jungkook, that little , thought Jimin. If only you knew how much he likes you. “Are you thinking about who I think you are, Tae?” Jimin said at last, breaking the somber silence. His words were relatively hushed, and Taehyung sat up to blink at him in surprise, proving the blonde’s speculation. “What? I-I don’t understand what you mean.” Jimin sighed. “You’re thinking about Jungkook, aren’t you?” Like the name was a trigger that had been pulled, something in Taehyung’s eyes shifted, and he visibly shrunk, attention back on the grass at his feet. “Well, maybe just a little…” Knowing very well it was a lie, Jimin didn’t say anything more, and expectantly, neither did Taehyung; he was focused on the ground, as if they held the answers to his thoughts that he was searching for — answers that apparently, Jimin himself had the answer to — and the blonde could only feel horrible seeing Taehyung look this upset. Because he knew exactly what Taehyung was thinking — Jungkook’s ignoring me again — and he knew exactly why; except that Jungkook had told him to keep it a secret. Yeah, and he really hated keeping secrets.   /// The phone seemed to ring on and on in Jimin’s ear, as he sat on his bed practically trembling with unease, chewing at his thumbnail. After two more tries, the line finally got through. “Hello?” “Jungkook?” said Jimin urgently. “ Kook, oh my god, I’m so ing sorry. I had a pretty bad cold last night and I went to bed early. I just saw your messages, what the hell happened??” “Hey dude it’s okay,” said the brunette, voice hushed through the speaker. He sounded like he’d just woken up too; it was 6.39am. There was the sound of sheets rustling. “Wait hold up let me… move. Taehyung’s still sleeping.” More noises, and then the click of a door. Jimin guessed he went to the bathroom. “Kook? Dude you sound really… I don’t know. I’m just- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you I should’ve told you I was sick and—” “Calm down you idiot,” Jungkook cut in, though he didn’t sound annoyed. “Like I said, it’s okay.” “And like hell I believe you. You know I know you too well to know you don’t mean your ‘it’s okay’s when you say them right?” “And your point is?” “Okay, fine, sorry I was rambling. What happened last night?” A sigh. Jimin could already picture Jungkook where he was — sitting over the toilet seat with his head hung low, running a hand through his hair as he pondered hard on what he was supposed to say — and it broke his heart a little. “Jungkook? You still there?” “Yeah, I’m here,” the other whispered. “Just… promise me you won’t tell Taehyung.” ///   So Jimin hadn’t really thought it through back then when he’d made that promise, and for obvious reasons, he was regretting that he didn’t talk the other out of it. It was probably about two weeks since the night that trouble had found its way up the Jeon’s doorstep, and ever since then, Taehyung hadn’t been the same. Well, who wouldn’t be? If the one person you looked up to and spent every single day with just suddenly started disappearing bit by bit? Taehyung probably should have seen it coming. With the way Jungkook had acted that day, and how secretive he’d been about what happened, Taehyung should have known. No, he wouldn’t really call it avoiding per se. Jungkook still talked to him — still said good morning, made jokes on bus rides to school, stole bites from his ice cream when he wasn’t looking, let him sleep next to him in his bed — but there were the excuses. Jungkook had never refused before whenever Taehyung asked for something, yet recently, that was all he’d been doing; saying he could no longer go home with Taehyung because he either had extra classes or was getting tutored by his girlfriend; turning down late-night Overwatch rounds because he was too tired; even skipping out on visits to the wolf cabin, for what other reasons Taehyung couldn’t help but believe. It was truly odd how busy Jungkook was out of the blue, but all he could think was, why would he lie to me? Yet with these last two weeks, Taehyung could definitely tell something was up. And he had a hunch that Jimin knew about it. “Did Jungkook tell you why he wasn’t coming today?” said Taehyung suddenly, startling Jimin a little. “Uh, Jungkook?” The blonde repeated. “Y-Yeah, he said something about going on a...date?” “...Right. He told me that too,” sighed Taehyung, as he brought his legs up to cross them atop the bench. “He’s been spending a lot of time with other people lately.” “And you’re feeling sad that he’s not spending time with you…?” guessed Jimin. “N-No, I mean. I’m just not used to it.” Taehyung’s lips were pulled into a pout. “I know I shouldn’t be feeling like this, and I don’t know why I am but… it’s just…he’s acting strange again.” Nibbling on his bottom lip, he considered his next question. “Did he… ever tell you that a man came to visit the house a few weeks ago?” Swallowing, Jimin kept a po